


When in Rome

by WhisperingDarkness



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Master of Death, No beta we die like... Harry can't seem to do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingDarkness/pseuds/WhisperingDarkness
Summary: Harry isn't all that surprised when it turns out that Death is not the end for him. Granted, he hadn't expected his next great adventure to take place in a bustling city hundreds of years before his birth, but perhaps he should have.Knowing himself and his own twisted luck, Harry does find himself wondering exactly what kind of trouble has found him this time.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 348





	When in Rome

* * *

**When in Rome...**

**(...try to stay out of trouble)**

* * *

This isn’t his first time at the market place. Harry had visited it several times since landing here, first of all to buy the clothes he wears now that help him blend into the crowds and later on just to get some food and browse, which is what he is doing here today.

Rome in this time is very different than what Harry is used to, but at the core of it every marketplace is pretty much the same: goods are exchanged for money, gossip exchanged for more gossip and unwary persons can find their pockets oddly lighter after a close brush with a hurried stranger or a street kid.

But today Harry hears a commotion that’s out of place, one different from the usual cry of ‘thief’. It doesn’t take him long to cut through the crowds towards the very front of where a group of people is surrounding a fallen boy. 

What Harry can make out from the rapid Italian is that an exotic snake had gotten out of his cage and that the child crying on the ground had been bitten in his ankle. 

A rather frightening figure in a beaked mask is attending to the young boy - a doctor, Harry presumes somewhat dubiously.

The wizard backs away from the group of people. A quick, surreptitious ‘point me’ leads him to the snake in question, and a soft discussion with the creature provides Harry with the agreement to use some of the cobra’s venom. He scurries further out of sight and pulls the appropriate potion from the beaded bag. After that it’s just a matter of adding the venom in question to the all-purpose anti-venom potion that is meant specifically for animal bites. 

The poor child already has trouble breathing when Harry comes back and he shoulders past the creepy doctor to kneel in front of the boy. “Drink this,” he orders the boy with his best attempt of authority.

“Who are you?” a voice demands of him, “You cannot give him that. I am a doctor, move aside!” 

Despite the doctor’s protesting, the boy lets Harry poor the drink into his mouth, clearly in too much pain to argue. Almost immediately the child lets out a breath of relief and his shoulders seem to relax. Good.

Harry watches for a moment longer, but the boy’s breathing is already better and he is no longer as pale. So he smiles and slides back into the crowd, blending in with a skill not acquired during the war, but from his childhood years as ‘the freak’ - prime target for bullies.

He slips away from the market place, ignoring the doctor calling after him and meanders to the very outskirts of Rome. It’s a bit of a walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s not as if he has much of anything to do with his day. Most of the time he just wanders around the city and improves upon his Italian by listening or attempting easy conversations with market stall holders. He makes a bit of coin by repairing broken items or transfiguring trash into beautiful vases or other items he can sell and that’s enough to pay for the room he is staying in.

This small, self-appointed task is just as good as any of that.

It takes him half an hour to reach the gates and he continues on for another fifteen minutes, away from the bustle of arriving merchants and travellers, before he finally crouches down and lightly touches his own sleeve.

“ _Well, here we are. Free of the people place, and no more cages_ ,” he informs the cobra wrapped around him in a whisper-soft hiss and lowers his arm towards the ground.

The snake unwinds from Harry’s body and fluidly slithers down his arm onto the ground. Then it turns around, its hooded head lifted and its tongue tasting the air between them. 

“ _Many thanksss_ ,” the cobra says, sounding oddly dignified for a snake. Then it slips away, disappearing into the tall grass. 

Harry smiles, staring after it. “Good travels,” he says out loud. After a moment he shrugs and sits down on the grass, taking a moment to just to bask in the peaceful warmth of the sun and the slight breeze outside of the busy city.

There’s a soft swishing sound of cloth moving in the wind. “That was a kind thing you did,” a voice informs him in Italian. 

The wizard turns his head and finds a cloaked man standing beside him, just about looming over him. He blinks. Where had the man even come from? He hadn’t noticed anyone approaching him. There’s nothing threatening about his body language, though, and the greeting was friendly enough. 

“No one should be caged like that,” Harry answers softly, remembering bars on his windows and how the approach of summer holidays never failed to fill him with dread.

The Italian man tilts his head back a little, allowing more light to fall within the shadow of his hood so that the amused smile on his lips is visible. “I meant the boy,” he clarifies wryly.

“Oh… right,” Harry says, blushing a little at the misconception. That _would_ make more sense. Though… does that mean this man followed him all the way here from the marketplace?

“Did you follow me?” he asks bluntly, not skilled enough in the language to try at any subtlety. Not that _that_ had ever been one of his strengths.

The man laughs lightly and bows at him, a gesture that makes his red and white cloak swirl around him with a flourish. “Ah, you have caught me! So I did. I hope you will forgive my presumption.”

“Uh, sure,” he answers, confused. “Just… why?”

“Hmm… I was curious. You acted quickly and the medicine you provided was more effective than any I know of,” the man says, as if that properly explains it. 

Well, it does explain that this bloke apparently finds stalking complete strangers for curiosity’s sake an acceptable pastime. 

Not that Harry should be one to judge – he had once snuck into the Slytherin common room pretending to be Goyle.

“Who are you?” the stranger asks him thoughtfully, the eyes that find his own from beneath the cloak are dark and perceptive. “A doctor? A traveller from far?”

"Not a doctor,” Harry denied. “But I guess… I _have_ travelled,” he smiles with genuine amusement before he adds, “far.” 

“I see,” the Italian man replies and stares at him so intently that Harry wonders what, exactly, the man sees. The wizard looks away, hand coming up automatically to rub the back of his neck.

When he catches sight of a movement between them a moment later and looks back up he finds the man crouched down in front of him, a hand held out towards where Harry is still sitting on the ground. 

“My name is Ezio Auditore da Firenze,” his new acquaintance states quite deliberately, as if this introduction carries great weight.

Baffled, Harry slowly reaches out with his own hand. “I’m Harry Potter… from far” he ends lamely.

His hand is grasped, firmly but not too tightly. “I’m pleased to meet you, Signore Potter. From far,” the man says, his voice low and meaningful, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Erm…” Harry tugs lightly on his hand and finds it quite captured. “…Right,” he concludes. “It’s just Harry, though.”

“Ah, then I am Ezio,” the man, still half-hidden beneath his hood, replies without hesitation. He still doesn’t let go of Harry’s hand. “What brings you to Rome, Harry?”

“Death,” he answers truthfully. He’d gotten out of the habit of lying, mostly because he doesn’t much care what people think of him. As long as they don’t try to burn him at the stake or something, but if he doesn’t mention anything magical or heretical, it should be fine.

Well, probably… Maybe. 

Pretty much everything was considered heretical back in this time period, wasn’t it?

The hooded man’s previous lightness seems to melt away a little, “Oh? May I ask whose death, _mio amico_?”

“I… was referring more to the general concept of it?” he answers hesitantly, not particularly wanting to get into the entity that was Death and Harry’s own… title of sorts, which had led him… well… _here_ after his own death.

Besides it is true. Death as an entity is also, somewhat, the general concept. Harry is pretty sure. 

It’s complicated.

“Is that so?” his new acquaintance muses. “A philosopher, are you?”

Harry snorts unflatteringly, “Not particularly. Can I have my hand back now?” The light tugs had either been completely lost on the man, or he’d been ignoring it for his own purposes.

“Ah, of course, I did not mean to keep you captive,” the man responds and lifts Harry’s hand to place a careless kiss on it. “Please forgive me,” he says with embellished remorsefulness before letting go. “No one should be caged.” 

Despite the rest of his theatrics, Harry’s earlier words were repeated with full seriousness. 

“A fate worse than death,” he agrees softly. Death is final, yes, but it is not unkind and Harry had long since stopped fearing it. 

The man, Ezio, pauses for a moment before shaking his head. “You are very strange, Harry Potter,”

Harry looks at the Italian man wearing an elaborate white and red hooded cloak and who sees nothing wrong with stalking strangers or keeping hold of their hands. “I suppose that makes two of us,” he replies, but his lips twist up into an amused smile. After the Dursleys he’d had his fill of normal, thank you very much. _Strange_ suits him just fine. 

So when the man winds an arm around his shoulder with far too much familiarity and steers him back into the streets of Rome, Harry just lets himself be dragged along. 

The man’s questions are good-natured, the curiosity seemingly genuine. But the few times his eyes are caught by Ezio’s he can see the consideration within them.

Despite that, he answers with more truth than lies, not exactly worried by the other man’s odd intentness. He seems friendly enough after all.

Knowing himself and his own twisted luck, Harry does find himself wondering exactly what sort of trouble had found him this time.

Judging by Ezio’s… _everything_. It was bound to be spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> New fandom! Throw in Harry Potter and stir lightly. Not particularly going anywhere with this though, so just another short one-shot to add to the pile. 😀


End file.
